Queen of Darkness
by Blood Diamond13
Summary: Wednesday's lover, her beautiful King of Darkness, has died. Horrified, guilty and greif-stricken, Wednesday decides to move away for a while. However she finds that her lover's ghost may have followed her, and not for the reason she would have hoped.
1. Dearly Departed

Eighteen year old Wednesday Addams was completely grief-stricken. The funeral was not held at the Addams home, although she argued that it should have been. No, instead it was held in some God-forsaken cememtary that nobody had ever heard of, not too far from the city. Wednesday hated the idea of his body, being burried near a city. He hated cities.

Pouring rain fell hard on the shiny black coffin. It was half-open and the precipitation soaked his hair, and ran down his face, like the tears he had cried, shortly before death seised him. Or rather, before he had seised himself.

Peels of thunder from miles away could be heard on the somber day of pain, regret and terrible woe.

They tried to tell her it wasn't her fault, that it could have happened to anyone, that she had done nothing wrong. But how could that be true? Guilt was a serious emotion, and it hit Wednesday like a semi-truck. And today, her face was expressionless except for the silent tears that streamed from her wet, glossy eyes like the falling rain. Even in the heat of April, it seemed so cold... without him.

She wore a short, black, long-sleeved dress and black high heels. She had on a small, black hat-headpeice with a black fishnet veil covering her teary eyes. Her raven hair had been cut down to a little bit past her shoulders ever since she was fourteen. She placed a white lily, his favorite of all flowers, on his coffin. What a contrast that shiny deathbox had with her pale skin... the pale skin he had longed to touch, to kiss, to love. He loved all of her, and now he could never feel that again.

She had given a wonderful speech, but it was a speech full of shit. Wednesday had written a speech that made her weep worse than a willow tree just to even think about, but it was a speech that set her tormented soul free. It was a speech that might've set his free, too. But his mother hadn't wanted that one. She called it depressing, and said she wished not to hear what death was, she only wished to hear about her son. She had told Wednesday if she could not accept that, she would not be permitted to pen a speech in his name, at all. Thus, his mother ended up writing one for Wednesday to present. It may have been acceptable, but it was birthed in lies.

She kneeled down by his coffin, as the rest of his family had now despersed, except for his mother. Wednesday placed a gloved hand on the coffin, and bowed her head. She stayed like that, weeping. She didn't know how a five foot three, one hundred twenty pound teenager like herself could cry so much, could cry about ten times their weight. Although, a lot of the tears had formed in her head, but most of them had formed in her aching heart.

Then, two people placed a hand on her shoulders. Two people Wednesday had not failed, could never fail.

"Oh, my poor darling." A thirty eight year Morticia kneeled down beside her, tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Wednesday. I can't pretend to know how you feel, but I know how much you loved him." Morticia then held her daughter as she cried, as they both cried.

Gomez then wrapped his arms around both of his darlings, the two women he loved and cherished more than any other women in the world. He did not cry, because he wanted to be strong for his daughter, and for Morticia right now. But he was a pool of tears on the inside.

And with all due respect, Wednesday decided, her mother did not know how much she had loved him. Her mother had only known a fraction of her daughter's feelings. The grief and pain was just the surface. Underlying, were the taunts of regret, and guilt. Oh, the guilt. It was consuming her, and all she could do was let the rain pour and let her feelings consume her some more.

After their long, painful embrace they stood. Wednesday, leaning on both her parents, felt like a child again, even if just for a breif moment. Oh, how she longed to go back to all that. How she wished she could go back to being a solemn, rambunctious, homicidal ten year old. How she wished she could have not a care in the world. How she missed having her biggest concern be her beloved Marie Antionette doll, which was now collecting dust in the Addams' attic. But, despite Wednesday's soul's efforts, she could never go back to that. Because all that was the past, and all of this was the painful present.

Before they began to walk away, his mother walked up to the coffin. She not only looked just as greif-stricken as Wednesday, she looked up at her son's former lover, and there was something in her eyes. Wednesday's parents took it as pain, but Wednesday had given and received versions of that look too many times for it to be. No, Wednesday knew that it was a look of anger, and maybe even hate.

Ever since the suicide, little to no words were exhanged between Wednesday -or anyone else in the Addams family for that matter- and his mother. And if Wednesday thought she was a bit cold before, well now she was complete ice. Of course, she had lost her husband a month after her son's birth, and now she had lost her son. And Wednesday could not say that she would even begin to understand, the feelings of losing the last living person she cared about. She lost one. She could only imagine losing everyone.

Wednesday walked away from the coffin with her parents. "Where are Pugsley and Pubert?" She managed to ask.

Morticia couldn't bare to look at her devistated little girl, but she knew she had to. "They're waiting by the car, darling."

Wednesday merely nodded. She missed him... she missed him more than she could ever have the guts to say aloud. As she walked to the car with her family, she remembered a few of their times together, good, bad, ugly and beautiful.

Flashbacks:

She remembered the good.

Wednesday was estatic. She couldn't believe Blake had done this for her. Here she was, thinking nobody had remembered her sixteenth birthday, come to find her lover had organized a suprise party. Wednesday almost always hated suprises, but she liked this one.

She walked into her house, miserable and went into the living room. Her entire family, and Blake were there. Black streamers and macbre decor decorated the house, minus the entrance.

"You really rembered!" Wednesday shouted.

"Of course, Wednesday, darling." Morticia said and hugged her eldest child.

"How could we forget?" Gomez asked.

"To be completely honest, I forgot." Pugsley stated, which earned him an annoyed nudge from Pubert.

Four year old Pubert pointed to Blake. "But ypu can thank your boyfriend. He organized the whole thing!"

Blake smiled proudly.

"The whole thing?" Wednesday approached him.

"Well, most of it." Blake confessed.

Morticia smiled. "Your father and I did quite a bit of the deocorating, and Máma made the cake."

Wednesday smiled, too. This was extremely rare for her, even more so than her mother's smiles. "I don't know what to say."

Máma cackled. "Well, we do."

Then the whole family shouted, "Happy Birthday!"

The family had walked into the kitchen to cut the cake, but Wednesday stayed behind with Blake for a bit.

"Thank you, darling." Wednesday wrapped her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his around her waist.

"I remember when I turned sixteen. Nothing special happened, really. My mother was working and brought home a single cupcake with a candle in it. We couldn't even throw a party, noone would have come anyway." Blake told her. "My love, I wanted only the best for you on your birthday."

"Well, I can only think of one thing that can make it better." Wednesday said.

At this, Blake kissed her, and before he could do it any more passionatley, Morticia and Gomez stood in the doorway, happy for their daughter.

"Come on, you two. It's time for cake." Morticia beckoned them over.

And her birthday couldn't have been better, thanks to him.

And the bad.

Fifteen year old Wednesday was rather upset. It was the couple's first disagreement, and they had only been dating three months. She had no idea how to handle it. He had said he'd vote for Quimby, a man who had no political background whatsoever, and wanted to "drain the swamp" for govenor. He thought he was a good candidate. Wednesday dissagreed, and they had a small argument over it. Wednesday immideatley hung up the phone and marched right upstairs to her room.

Morticia soon knocked on her daughter's door. "Wednesday, dear? May I come in?"

"Mother, I'm fine." Wednesday lied.

"You don't sound fine." Morticia sighed. "But, if you don't want my help, I understand."

Looking back, Wednesday now knew it was a trick to get her to open up. Morticia lightly stomped her feet to make it sound like she was slowly walking away.

"Mother, wait." Wednesday gave in. "Come in."

"Alright, dear." Morticia walked into her daughter's bedroom and locked the door behind her. "What's the matter?"

"Sit." Wednesday told her, and sat up.

"Ah-ah. What do we say?" Morticia asked.

"Now." Wednesday had commanded.

Her mother smiled. "That's better." Morticia sat on the bed next to Wednesday. "Now, then, what's the matter?"

"Mother... Blake and I had our first... dissagreement." Wednesday confessed.

"Ah, so that's what this is all about." Morticia said.

"Yea. And, I... I've always said that I want a guy who's got his own opinions, and I think that's good. But this time, it's not. Because this time, his opinion is wrong."

"I see."

"Look, I know you and father are rather... involved with eachother, and I know how much you love and adore eachother, and I know..." Wednesday sighed. "more than I should. But, you have to disagree on some things, right? Doesn't everyone?"

Morticia gave a small, barely audible laugh. "Yes, darling. It's natural. A dissagreement doesn't have to be dramatic if you respect eachother's opinion." She paused. "Even if the other's opinion is wrong."

"Okay, but what happens if it turns into an argument? I mean, I don't really think I did anything wrong. I stated my opinion. He was the one who blew it out of proportion."

"Darling, about a month ago, your father and I had a bit of a dissagreement like that. It was over something trivial. Morticia began. "But I had said that I thought books in schools were more improtant than sports. He disagreed, I said it was merely because fencing happened to be a sport in the particular school we were discussing. He read me an article that said the people on the school board ith higher IQ's were picking sports. I assumed he was implying something and grew a tad offended."

"First of all, books, duh. And second, what happened then?"

"Well, I told him he offended my sensibilities and I walked away. About a half an hour later, he came up to our bedroom, and tried to explain. He appologized and we..." Morticia tried to appropriatley end the story. "made up."

"Oh. And do you think that's what he'll do? Appologize?" Wednesday asked.

"Yes, but you may also have to throw in an 'I'm sorry' too."

"But he was wrong."

"And to him, you were." Morticia got up. "If he's the kind of man your father and I think he is, give it an hour, tops." She then walked out. "Goodnight, darling." She said, and she closed the door.

And sure enough, he called back within the hour and appologized, and they made up. And she could finally get to sleep that night, thanks to him.

And she remembered the ugly.

It was two weeks after the day she turned seventeen. Wednesday stormed out of his house, tears streaming down her face. She walked right into a rainstorm and didn't even care. She couldn't believe what he had said to her. He'd said that he had a bad feeling about one of her only friends, Alison. When she said he had nothing to worry about, he fought with her about it. He even called her naive. How dare someone call the deadly Wednesday Adams naive!

She got into her car, which was parked infront of his house and began to drive. She lived merely twenty minutes away. She didn't care if he wanted to talk, or if he wanted to make amends, because she wasn't having any of it. She was miserable and mad as hell.

Speeding, she drove down the street, the fight playing in her mind over and over again. She was going to be the only one home until 11:00 A.M. tomorrow. Her family was camping, and Wednesday wanted to stay behind with Blake. She regretted it right now. She pulled into her driveway and began to walk to her porchsteps in the freezing rain when a hand grabbed her shoulder.

Insinctively, she elbowed the person behind her. She turned to find Blake, doubled over.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Blake asked.

"Reflex. I figured you knew me well enough not to do that."

Blake sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. Can I do anything to make it up to you?"

"Make what up to me?"

"Eveything. I was such an idiot back there. I said things I didn't mean, and I regret them. It's just I've been through a lot in my life, and I don't want you to be hurt by anyone... ever." Blake explained.

Wedneday scoffed. "You hurt me."

"I know, and I didn't mean it. I promise, I never meant to hurt you, Wednesday. You have to believe me, I love you." He said.

Before she could respond, lightening struck a tree branch and it nearly crushed her. But Blake pushed her out of the way, and jumped out of the way of the branch. They both fell onto the cold, wet porch. And they laughed.

"Thanks." Wednesday managed to say.

"Hey, I love you."

Wednesday kissed him. "I love you, too... and thank you, I mean it. I'm petite, I could've been crushed by that tree."

"Hey, what else am I for?" Blake asked, not expecting an answer.

"This." Wednesday's voice had an edge to it as she kissed him, biting his lip. She ran her fingers through his hair and he brought her into the house.

She got out of the lightening storm, and into dryness... thanks to him.

That moment led into her favorite memory, the beautiful.

He carried her up to her room and Wednesday locked the door.

"Wednesday?" He asked.

"Yes?" Wednesday asked as she took off her jewelry and shoes.

"Are you sure you wanna do this? I mean, am I really the person you wanna-"

Wednesday didn't let him finish, and she quickly pushed him onto the bed, and let him take a very precious peice of her that day. A peice of her she promised herself she'd reserve for someone she really loved with all her heart, and for someone who really loved her.

As she pulled off his shirt, she saw something on his arm that is still vivid in her mind. Her name was tattooed on it, in black. She traced it with her finger.

"Does your mother know?" She asked.

"Not yet. But when she finds out, nothing will really be done about it. I mean, I love her to death but I'm almost nineteen. I don't need her consent to get a tattoo."

"You are a bad boy."

"Yea, but I won't ever be to you." He said and kissed her once again.

And the morning after, she awoke... next to him.

End flashbacks.

But that was all over now. Wednesday, face expressionless, got into the car. She sat in the mid-section of the car, her brothers next to her. Gomez and Morticia sat in the back, heart-broken and extremely worried for their once beautifully homicidal, beloved child of woe.


	2. Guilt

It had been eight months, now it was December 11th, and the entire family had seemingly gotten over it by now... except for Wednesday. Wednesday, on the outside, seemed to be improving hour by hour, day by day. However, on the inside, she was only getting worse.

The guilt was unbearable. It was driving her mad. So mad, that two weeks after the death, she had attempted suicide... three times. Nobody knew, though. The first time, she tried to hang herself but somebody, "down there" liked her too much, and the rope refused to get tight enough to choke her. Next, she took to much of her depression medication, but that did nothing. Her gaudrian spirit was back at it again with saving her life. Last, she did admittedly try to cut her wrists but she couldn't do it. Nothing happened, it was like magic. That's when she knew she was doomed to live.

She had nowhere to run, nowhere to turn. Her mother? Maybe. But Wednesday figured she knew nothing of the guilt and loss she felt. That, she failed to realize was far from true. Her father? She thought the same. And even if she were to tell her parents, she might get too personal, and she coudln't get that personal. At least... not with her father.

But she couldn't keep living like this, like a shell of who she used to be. But she supposed that her old self was gone. This was her new life. She felt she deserved it, as this must've been howe he felt before... the incident.

He had convinced himself she was cheating, after he saw her new friend, Jeremy -whom obviously had fallen for her- profess his love to her. Wednesday politely told him she was in a relationship with someone she loved a great deal, and that was the end of it. But a day later, after the fight he had with Wednesday about it, he came to the park to apologize. Amd at the park, Jeremy rabbed her and kissed her just so he would see it.

He _did_ see it, and the black orchids fell out of his hands. Enraged, he hopped in his black silverado and drove off.

Wednesday was furious, and flew off into a rage at her new friend. He tried to appologize, and Wednesday said she would only forgive Jeremy if he went over to Blake- _his_ house and explained everything.

Jeremy had agreed, and that evening he _did_ go over to his house. But he said that Wednesday had had some feelings for _him_ , Jeremy! And went on about how it wasn't his fault but that it was just the way things were. He walked out of the house, called Wednesday and said to give him a call.

Wednesday did, and for some reason, he didn't answer. But she left a message on his phone, and in it she said, _Blake... please call me. I'm sorry, I should've been more careful. I thought... it doesn't matter what I thought. Please don't be angry at me. I hope Jeremy explained everything, I... hope you know how much I really care about you, how much I love you... call me._

But he never did call, because the deceased can't contact the living... at least, not by phone. That night, he listened to the message... and was completely heart-broken. Her lover already was struggling with depression. It was very slight depression, it ran in his family, he only took a pill once a day for it. But _this_ pushed him over the edge. Wednesday had what she called, _the curse of the Addams women_. Your true love can not and will not live without you... and you can not and will not live without them.

Wednesday knew she had to come downstairs, her mother's birthday was today... she was turning thirty nine. Of course, she looked thirty. She was still breathtaking and hadn't changed at all since Pubert was born. Her father hadn't changed either, he was just as handsome as his wife was ravishing. He had turned thrity nine two months earlier.

He was organizing a grand party for his wife. She had gotten a call from her cousin, Revena that it had been a year since her best friend died. She begged Morticia to come over and hold a seonce to contact her. She knew she either led or co-led the at-home family seonces, and was extremely good at getting in touch with the dead. So, Morticia agreed to come over that morning and wouldn't be back until 1:30 P.M..

Gomez took the time from when she left around 9:00 up until 1:15 to decorate and get everything ready. The house looked wonderfully macbre.

 _"Wednesday!"_ Pugsley called upstairs. _"Aren't you coming down for mother's party?"_ He asked.

 _"Give me five minutes!"_ Wednesday called.

 _"Dementia, Uncle Fester, Cousin Itt and Margaret are here!"_ He called back up. _"Oh, they brought What! He really misses you!"_

Admittedly, Wednesday missed What too. She hadn't seen him in a very long time, and he was getting so big, just five days younger than Pubert.

And how she adored Dementia. She was about five years younger than her Uncle Fester, who tied the knot with her two years ago and moved down the street in a large, black house that looked haunted. It was different from Wednesday's but alike in many ways.

Wednesday pulled herself out of bed, and put on her _everything's getting better_ face. She looked in the mirror and decided she looked suitable for the party.

By the time Wednesday came down for the party, her mother was walking out of the car. She opened the door, Lurch took her coat and she walked into the living room. Nobody was there, but a small note on the table. It read;

 _My enchanting wife,_

 _My love, I adore you more with every passinng second,_

 _My heart skips a beat when I see you,_

 _In regards to our love, it will see no end,_

 _The intensley passionate way I long and love to hold and kiss you will forever be,_

 _You are my everything, and fill my life with the most joyess unhappiness I will ever know,_

 _Happy birthday, my darling,_

 _You are still as radiant as the day I first laid eyes on you._

 _-yours for all eternity, Gomez_

Morticia smiled, and took the note with her as she looked around the house for her family. She noticed all of the extravagent party decorations, and followed the smell of Màma's specialty, _Transylvanian Rodent Upside-Dwon Cake_ , into the kitchen.

There, she found her enitre family, all smiling at her. "Happy birthday!" They all shouted.

"Thank you." Morticia's face wore it's usual expresison, her smiles were mainly reserved for her husband. However, anyone who knew her could tell she was happy. She then looked over at Margaret, Cousin Itt and What. "Margaret, What, Cousin Itt, I'm delighted you're here. It's been too long."

"We couldn't miss your birthday party, Morticia!" Margaret replied enthusiastically.

Cosuin Itt and What babbled in agreement.

Morticia then approached her husband and wrapped her arms around his neck, while his wrapped around her waist, and a bit lower than that. "Mon cher, did you arrange all this?"

"Of course, I want only the best for you, cara mia." He kissed her. And after about a minute, he didn't stop.

Morticia chuckled, but it was abrely aduible. "Darling, _the guests_." She tried to remind him.

"What guests?" He asked.

Morticia sighed and looked around. "Our _family_ , mon amour."

"They know us by now, they're _family_." He said and resumed what he had started.

The rest if the family just laughed and smiled. Gomez was right, they knew the couple well enough by now that this was completely normal to them. It _would_ have been awkaward if that didn't happen.

But as for Wednesday, this was all giving her painful deshavu. She didn't know how much more of it she could take. She loved her mother, and she knew today was about her. Morticia was always thinking of others, she deserved it. Wednesday still wore her same expression amd told herself to quit being selfish.

Wednesday was now eating cake at the table with her family.

"Mmm..." Maraget adored he type of cake it was, whatever it was. "Who made the cake? It's delicious."

"That would be me!" Màma waved a hand. _"Transylvanian Rodent Upside-Down Cake."_

Wednesday felt her stomach churn. That cake... Máma had made that for her birthday, she made it for everybody's birthday but still... Wednesday felt like everyone got over it way too fast. Everything was too fast.

It was time for gifts, and Wednesday didn't know how much more she could take.

Margaret and Cousin Itt had given her a wonderful home-mad recipie book, and a year's supply of black yarn for her knitting. What and Pubert had made a large, beautifully spooky black card with sweet little messages from the entire family on it. Uncle Fester and Dementia gave her a one million dollar _birthday check_ which they had called, a _nice round figure_ and a lovely card. They also gave her a bottle of red wine, skull shaped wine glasses and a note that said, _For you **and** your husband, have fun. _Pugsley had gotten his mother a new, exotic plant. He had taken if from the science room at school after a bucket of toxic waste had been spilled on it. Wednesday had given her a glass figurine of a woman in a long, black dress knitting a sparkly spider web. It was called, _The Black Widow's Web_.

It was Gomez's turn. He stood next to the chair his wife sat in and handed her a box in black wrapping paper, tied with a black bow. The card had one of the most beautiful, dark and foreboding love poems Gomez had ever written. Morticia smiled up at him and unwrapped the box.

As Wednesday watched her mother unwrap the box, she felt a new feeling come over her. She didn't know what it was, it wasn't anger but it wasn't sadness... it was, it was... she didn't even know.

Morticia opened the box to reveal an enchanting ring. It was black and had dark green and blood red gems on top to form a thorny rose, lying on it's side. Engraved on the inside of the ring were the words, _Mine for all eternity, carita mia._

Wednesday felt like she was going to throw up. All she could think about as her father slipped the perfectly-fitting ring onto her mother's finger, was the black diamond bracelet _he_ had given her, the one she hadn't worn since he... passed.

She looked sick, too. Màma looked at her funny but didn't say a word.

Wednesday put a hand to her mouth, as though she were clearing her throat, and then she hopped up from the couch. "I'm sorry, I'm not..." she gulped. "I'm not feeling too well. I... I think I need to get some rest. I'm sorry, mother. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your party, I'll..." She looked around the room, and observed the awkward looks she recieved. "I'll see you in the morning." She then politely exited, and heard the party resume behind her.

However, she did not know that her mother was watching her leave, that she was growing increasingly concerned for her.

The party had ended now, it was almost midnight. Gomez and Morticia were downstairs in the kitchen, exhausted. Morticia was finishing her last glass of red wine -her favorite alchoholic beverage- while Gomez rubbed her back, standing behind her.

"That was a wonderful party, darling." Morticia told him.

"I'm so happy you enjoyed it, Tish." He smiled.

"Darling..." Morticia paused. "You know I hate to brag, but I've noticed something." She told him.

"And what's that?" Gomez asked.

"I haven't physically aged since Pubert was born." She said, outright. "And I think I know why."

Her husband raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because, darling... let's just say that when I was eighteen, two weeks after we married, a thought occured to me. I told myself I had a feeling that no matter how old I got -not saying I'm old, but I'm a year away from being middle-aged- you'd end up keeping me young for the rest of my life. And, you did." She paused. "I really do appreciate it, all of the gifts and the compliments, and..." She sighed, and put a delecate hand on his. "I just want you to remember that I know how much you strive to make me happy, but I'm already _so_ happy with you, and the children. Everything I have and everything you give me and make me feel internally makes me happy. And you could never dissapiont me."

"Oh, Tish..." Gomez truly loved her, even more than any human heart was capable of loving another human being. He kissed her hand.

And then on the record player in the living room, a waltz started to play.

Gomez then outstretched his hand. "Querida, how log has it been since we've waltzed?" He asked.

Morticia smiled, and she gladly took his hand. "Oh, mon cher... quite a few hours."

They then danced and laughed in the living room, nobody was there, just those two together. Their love was a unique one indeed, but it was true. One can't only feel affection for someone in public eye, for that isn't love, it's a joke. And one can't only love someone in private eye, either. One must love with everything they have, love in public and private, love like it's everything they have, everything they are, because it is. They held eachother like they never would again, even though they would forever.

When the dancing was done, Gomez took her in his arms and carried her upstairs.

Wednesday looked through the crack in her door and observed her parents. The way her father looked at her mother... _he_ had his own unique look he would give her. But she'd never get to see that look again. Wednesday wanted to scream out loud but instead, burning tears in her eyes, she screamed into her black pillow, and no one could hear her. Her guilt was unbearable. Her sorrow was unreal. Her feelings and thought were unholy. She felt extremely guilty. But she also felt... that new feeling from earlier.


	3. My Little Homicidal Darling

It had been a week, and Wednesday cried herself to sleep every night. Her dreams were filled with his face, and most of them were scenes of what she imagined his death looked like. She woke up in a panicked sweat every day, and retreated more and more into her room until she became openly depressed. She never really ate that much, she lost ten pounds. For a girl of her structure, height, and weight that was bad.

One night, she was crying herself to sleep in her bed, when there was a knock at her door. She stayed silent, hoping she could pretend to be asleep.

"That won't work with me, dear." Morticia said from the other side of the door.

Wednesday still stayed silent.

"Wednesday, I tried to use that trick on _my own_ mother. It worked on her, so think again if you believe I'm going to let it work on me." Morticia told her. "I'm worried about you, darling."

" _Please_ go away, mother." Wednesday rolled over.

"No." Morticia stayed put. "You open this door, now."

"Mother, I... _can't_. Okay?"

"Are you paralyzed?"

"What?" Wednesday was puzzled. "No." She then mumbled, "at least not physically."

"That's exactly what I said when I was about two years younger than you."

"No?"

"No, _at least not physcially_. You're too much like me, dear."

"Oh, no." Wednesday rolled over to face the door again.

"Thank you, now open up."

"I-it's open, mother." Wednesday was playing with a knife she had, avoiding her mother's eyes as she walked in.

Morticia closed and locked the door behind her. She sat on the bed and eyed her daughter. "Sit up." She commanded, but not sternly.

Wednesday sat up, criss-cross. "What is it, mother?" She asked.

"You know what it is, and-" Morticia paused. "This is the only time you'll ever hear me say this, but put down that knife."

Wednesday placed the knife on her nightstand.

"Wednesday, what's the matter?" She asked.

"What do you mean? I'm fine."

"No, darling, you're not. Now, to be perfectly honest, I know what's wrong. I also know that you think I can't relate to you, because in this state nobody does. I have news for you, Wenesday... I can."

Wednesday rolled her eyes. "How?"

Morticia held back tears. "I was only sixteen when my father died, dear." She said. "I had nobody to turn to. My sister, Ophelia was never as close with him as I was, she actually didn't care for him all that much. She never felt like I did when he died. My mother couldn't be burdened, she had no money, a horribly paying job and her own problems. After my father died, we got an inheritance of one hundred thousand and bought a house, but we had to move to a very small one because the money my mother was making couldn't possibly cover a mortgage for a large home. My father was my only friend, my _best_ friend. I loved him more than anybody else in my family. We were insperable. He was there for everything, the good and the bad. My mother couldn't take the time to sit down and talk to me like I am with you. And it hurt, Wednesday. I know a thing or two about losing love, and it's the worst feeling you can have."

Wednesday felt terrible. She cried. "I'm so sorry, mother. I had no idea that you... I forgot you were..."

"Forgot I was what, dear?" Morticia asked.

Wednesday sighed. "Well, I forgot you were a person." She confessed.

Morticia was rather confused. "You forgot I was a person?"

"Yes. Mother, you're very... together. Your smart, and nice, and sure your kind of weird but you really care about other people. And on top of eveything else, dad could literally hold a sword to your heart and you'd still be one hundred percent confident that he'd never hurt you." She looked away. "I thought I had something like that... I thought I had somebody who trusted me, who I could do that to but they'd know I'd never hurt them, who knew how much I loved them... and I didn't." She wiped her tears with her palm.

"Darling, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm jealous!" She admitted. "I'm jealous that dad and you are perfect, and you've been married for almost twenty one years. I'm jealous beccause he knows how devoted you are to him, and he thinks your the best person on earth. And, mother, I love you both so much. But, I'm jealous because he looks at you... he looks at you a lot like how Blake used to look at me." And that was it. She hadn't been able to speak his name since his death... but she did. And she cried harder than she had in months.

Morticia felt awful. She held her daughter as she cried. "Oh, darling... I'm so terribly sorry, I didn't know. I..." She paused, and fently lifted Wednesday's chin to look at her. "Wednesday... I don't know how to fix this. To tell you the truth, the hardest thing to do is mend a broken heart, especially if it's been broken by a loved one. But I do know that I refuse to sit by and let you live like this."

"I'm eighteen, I'm an adult! I have to learn to solve my own problems."

"Wenesday, I don't care how old you are. The first minute you were born, I promised you that you would always be my darling little homicidal maniac. And I meant it. You need to find something better than this, and I'm going to help you. Alright?"

"But, I-"

"No excuses. Over my decaying corpse will you grow to be an old lady, reminiscing about long forgotten times with nothing but a memory box and a dead bat named Flappy." Morticia told her.

"You read my diary, didn't you?"

Morticia was taken aback. "You have a diary?"

"Well, yes. How else would you know that I-" It then occured to Wednesday that tortured minds truly _did_ think alike, and Morticia had never done anything like that. "Never mind."

Morticia nodded. "I love you, darling. And I _will not_ see you spend the rest of your life in agony."

"Like the witch from Hansel and Gretel?"

"Yes, and you know how bad I felt for her." She sighed and shook her head.

"Some children are so ungreatful." They said in unison.

Morticia raised an eyebrow. It shouldn't have suprised her that Wednesday had memorized what Morticia _always_ said after mention of the horrid story.

Wednesday chuckled. "Mother... I need to leave."

Morticia put a hand on her daughter's leg. "What?"

"You heard me. I have to go."

"Go? Go where?" Morticia asked.

"I don't know, maybe... well, you know I've decided to postpone college for a year. So, maybe I should just go and... find myself." Wednesday tried to explain.

Morticia would miss her, but she knew this was right. "I see." She straightened her back.

"I'm thinking about moving out to Texas for a while."

"Texas?"

"Yea, I mean a massacre happened there so it can't be that bad."

"I'm very proud of you." Morticia stood up.

"Does that mean I can go?"

"You said it youself, you're an adult... and you have to do what you think is right for yourself."

Wednesday got up from the bed and hugged her, she almost stopped crying. "I love you, mother."

Morticia kissed her forehead. This is what she wished her own mother would have done for her, years ago. "I love you too, my little spider."

Morticia then walked out of her eldest's bedroom, and closed the door. She ended up walking straight into the arms of her husband.

"Oh, Gomez, darling, I didn't see you there."

"That was a wonderful thing you did, Tish. I couldn't be more proud of our daughter... or of you."

"Oh, darling, nor could I. But I didn't do anything. I was just being a mother."

"And a very good one at that." He kissed her hand.

Morticia smiled. "You heard, then? That she's leaving?"

"Yes. And I'll miss her just as much as you will, darling. But we both know it's right."

She sighed. "Somebody down there must really love me, because I couldn't feel more unhappy."

"Well, somebody up here loves you more." Gomez said and kissed her.

"You aren't jealous of the spirits now, are you, mon amour?"

Gomez kissed her neck. "Always."

As they walked, Wednesday stood still, unmoving. She was no longer jealous of her parents, of her mother. She simply loved them. Along with love came an array of other emotions, but true love always came out strongest, and on top.

Wednesday decided to get some sleep, she would pack tomorrow, and book her flight for the next night. She was very exicted, and for the first time in a long time felt another feeling besides depression. Her long for death was now competing with her lust for life, and it felt oh, so wonderful.


	4. AN IMPROTANT MESSAGE (NOT A CHAPTER)

Hey, I love writing this story, but it may remain incomplete for a while, as I may need to focus on a request I have recieved, as well as other things in life that have come up. If you see an incmplete story has not been updated in a while, it is NOT abandoned. I merely took a slight break for personal reasons.


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